There's something innately rock and roll about Tinariwen. The band, which formed more than 30 years ago, came to life out of the Sahara Desert in northern Mali, a harsh place with sometimes harsher consequences for not falling in line with Islamist extremists.

Founded by Ibrahim Ag Alhabib, a man whose first guitar was made with bicycle brake wire and a can, Tinariwen is both a representation and proof of rebellion, originality and tenacity itself. Recently, one band member was kidnapped by extremists for about two months and when the group set to work on its newest album, a decision was made to produce it in California desert rather than their own for basic safety reasons.

The revolutionary genesis might be rock and roll but these guys don't offer any crazy onstage antics. There are no wild costumes or pyrotechnics. Instead, the band members appear in traditional clothing -- long-sleeved robes and headscarves -- and only occasionally stepped out of line to goad the crowd into clapping.

One member, who wore a golden-orange outfit, never seemed to stop dancing. His arms floated away from his body while his hands and wrists twisted with the rhythm while his whole body bounced back and forth, back and forth in an easy sway.

Tinariwen performs at Scene Stabil Drill International at Festival International in Lafayette on Friday, April 25, 2014. (Photo by Brianna Paciorka, NOLA.com | The Times-Picayune)

That cool-headed self-confidence quietly translated into the music as a kind of unhurried reverence. They've come a long way from building their own guitars, but the instrument remains a focal point. The organic harmony of their voices serve to augment the gravelly echo of those guitars, a sound that came naturally from the battery-powered amps they first used in the desert.

Occasionally, I heard a riff or two that sounded like something from a classic rock song I could never quite put my finger on. It's exactly that kind of thing that makes Tinariwen both familiar and exotic. Their own inspiration comes from their people's -- the Tuaregs' -- poetry and a call-and-response tradition rooted in a West African percussive heritage.

The crowd itself ebbed and flowed as stages around the festival opened and closed with their own performers, but the faithful stayed on with Tinariwen -- some even adopting the style of dance.

In a final song, the band members without their hands on a guitar or beating a drum encouraged the crowd to clap their hands as the beat swelled with an almost Celtic sound. The pace quickened more and more, and the man in golden orange stepped to the front. He indulged momentarily at center-stage, jumping directly into the spotlight.

Missed the show? Tinariwen plays again on Saturday, April 26, at 2 p.m. on the Scene Lafayette General Fais Do Do.